


Irritation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

by BlackCatBexxie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, Frustration, Hand Jobs, I don't know, Is it the sexual kind?, M/M, Sort Of, you don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23481952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCatBexxie/pseuds/BlackCatBexxie
Summary: Or is it giving secret handjobs on school property?
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 87





	Irritation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

**Author's Note:**

> More of a note to myself but this marks the first fanfic I've written in almost 8 years and I actually missed the feeling of publishing something!

He heaves in a breath as the whistle blows. Looking up from the floor where he's hunched over, sweaty palms on aching knees, Oikawa's eyes focus on the scoreboard.

32-30 to Shiratorizawa. 

Screams and cheers fill the stadium and he hears the other team's shouts of triumph and victory. Fingers clench around his knees so hard his knuckles turn white and Oikawa feels a familiar nausea burn in his stomach. Ahh, not this feeling again...

Later on in the changing rooms, after going through the motions as graciously as he could and reluctantly shaking hands with _him_ , Oikawa tries his best he really does. He tries to put on a brave face and summon forth some encouraging words for his defeated teammates through clenched teeth and the fakest smile imaginable but he knows it's pointless. The only one who acknowledges this half-assed attempt at consolation is Iwaizumi, the other members of the team sniffling quietly as they undress. 

"Oikawa..." Iwaizumi begins, struggling and failing to hold back tears but he immediately stops when he sees the look on Oikawa's face. 

"Next year..." Oikawa starts quietly after a few seconds of silence, "will definitely be ours. We'll win." They have to.

* * *

His second year passes by quickly enough and soon Oikawa is a third year student. This year - this year for sure.

Aoba Jōsai takes on as many practice matches as they can possibly fit in around their studying schedules. Oikawa stays behind every day after school to practice and even tries to come in on the weekends before he is caught by the coach and told that he'll seriously injure himself at the rate he's going.

After a couple of months, they finally land a practice match with Shiratorizawa and Oikawa is more than pumped to get a proper game in. It ends with Shiratorizawa once again scraping the win by a mere two points.

Oikawa feels his chest deflate and the memories of defeat from last year come rushing back to him. He glares at Ushijima from across the net, gaze sharp as a razor's edge. As if he could feel someone watching him, Ushijima turns to stare at the setter, usually dead eyes alight with victory and the faintest smirk gracing his features. Oikawa's stomach twists into knots and he fights the urge to stride across the court and swing his clenched fist right into that cocky face.

That night Oikawa dreams of being held down by strong hands, the force of an oppressive body keeping him from rising and bearing down on his own enough to choke the air from his lungs. Panicked, numb and unable to move, Oikawa only prays that he gets some relief soon otherwise he thinks he might actually suffocate. Ushijima's face, lit by some kind of menacing purplish glow, looks almost bored as he presses Oikawa further down into the floor. 

Oikawa startles awake and is both shocked and disgusted to find that he's hard. He stares up at the ceiling and wills his erection to go away but it keeps him up most of the night.

The dreams continue.

* * *

He's out on one of his runs, going through forms and strategies in his head and before he knows it, he's completely run off the beaten path. Stopping quickly, Oikawa scans his surroundings and finally realises where he is. Somehow, he's ended up outside of Shiratorizawa Academy.

He deliberates turning around and running home but curiosity soon gets the better of him and he sneaks onto the campus, quickly heading towards the obnoxiously large sports hall.

Oikawa quickly checks to make sure no one is around before he peeks through a window and sure enough, the Shiratorizawa volleyball club is in the middle of practicing. He spots Tendou and his freakish guess blocking, successfully sending a spike flying from a boy with weird black hair and what was his name again? Either way, he could be problematic in the future—

"What are you doing?"

Oikawa almost jumps ten feet in the air before spinning around only to come face to face with the asshole that has been haunting his dreams of late.

"Reconnaissance," Oikawa says as nonchalantly as he can, not bothering with a lie. Ushijima probably wouldn't care either way.

"If that's what you're here for then just come in instead of creeping around outside."

Oikawa has a vicious reply on the tip of his tongue when Ushijima sweeps past him without sparing him a second glance. Oikawa's blood boils but he follows in behind him, taking a position on the sidelines with folded arms. The members of the volleyball club only acknowledge him briefly before carrying on with their practice.

Ushijima soon joins the fray and Oikawa's eyes automatically lock onto him. Maybe if he properly studied this monster of a player he could somehow crack the code to winning against him.

Oikawa's eyes never leave Ushijima for the remainder of their practice - taking in his form, his power, the way his hand connected with the ball whilst he was delivering his ferocious spikes and it's actually quite hypnotising, so much so that Oikawa doesn't notice the time tick by until it's three hours later and practice is ending. As the rest of the players begin their post-match cool downs, Oikawa follows a bead of sweat trickling down the back of Ushijima's neck, watching it disappear underneath his t-shirt and suddenly realises he's been staring too hard and too long when his eyes gravitate towards the flash of tanned skin when Ushijima stretches his arms above his head.

_What the hell was he doing..._

"Get enough intel?"

Oikawa snaps out of his reverie, gaze panning up slightly to meet Ushijima's. "Y-yeah, thanks."

Ushijima cocks an eyebrow. "If you want to spy on us, do it in plain sight next time," he states like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

Oikawa just scoffs as he turns to leave. "What makes you think there'll be a next time?"

* * *

There was a next time. And a time after that. Weeks passed with Oikawa turning up to view Shiratorizawa's practices on the days he wasn't practicing himself. And every time he would stand on the sidelines, eyes focused on Ushijima, trying and failing to suss out any weaknesses. Damn it, what was with this guy?!

Another practice session down and Oikawa isn't any closer to coming up with a plan that would end in Ushijima's crushing defeat. Hang on, since when had this been about _just_ Ushijima...?

Glancing back at the spiker in question, Oikawa feels his stomach flip when he can see Ushijima looking right back, unable to mistake the smirk that adorns his face as if he can see right through him. Oikawa grits his teeth and waits for everyone else to start leaving before stalking over to Ushijima, barring his way.

"What the hell is your problem?" Oikawa practically spits, tone layered with acid.

Ushijima, calm as ever, doesn't rise to the bait. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit. Why do you look so fucking smug?"

Ushijima levels him with a steady, unreadable expression. "Why didn't you come to Shiratorizawa?"

Oikawa looks affronted, staring at Ushijima for almost an uncomfortably long amount of time before muttering something along the lines of "none of your business" and abruptly leaving.

* * *

The next time Oikawa invades their practice, he hangs around until it's just him and Ushijima left in the sports hall. He knows it's the spiker's turn to clear away the equipment and lock up after practice. He purposefully waits until everyone has gone home before following Ushijima to the changing rooms. Interestingly enough, Ushijima doesn't bother closing the door. Opening up his locker, he peels his sweat-soaked t-shirt off of his body before packing it away into a gym bag, mentally reviewing the results from the practice session.

Oikawa barrels in through the doorway, slamming the door behind him. Ushijima doesn't even flinch, continuing to sort through his bag like this was the norm.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you always have that shit-eating grin on your face after every match?!" Oikawa practically shouts. He knows he's acting hysterical but he can't help it, this guy always knows how to bring out this side of him.

Ushijima closes his locker then, turning slowly to face Oikawa with another stoic expression. "Is that really what you came here for— what you followed me all the way here for?" 

Oikawa furrows his brow, not quite understanding. "What are you talking about, why else would I be here? And are you gonna answer me or what?"

Ushijima advances on him then. "And what if I said that was just my normal face after a match?" He watches Oikawa retreat slightly as he gets closer, walking forward until Oikawa's back is against the door and Ushijima is standing right in front of him. "What if I just relish the winning? Ushijima looks down his nose at him. "Why didn't you come to Shiratorizawa?"

Oikawa starts to burn. Burn with fury and irritation and something else...

"You're shaking, Oikawa."

Oikawa blinks, looking up slightly at Ushijima and shit when did he get so close? He feels his body trembling and fuck it isn't just with rage but... excitement?

"Yeah, because I'm ridiculously mad right now," Oikawa manages around the lump that has formed in his throat. 

Ushijima moves closer, crowding Oikawa up against the door. "It's amusing how angry you get," Ushijima breathes hot and thick into the narrow space between them. The setter doesn't miss the tiny hint of laughter.

"Fuck you," Oikawa growls.

* * *

It's messy, violent almost and how did they get here exactly?

Oikawa's brain didn't have that much functioning capacity as he pries open Ushijima's mouth with his tongue, one hand bracing against the spiker's shoulder and the other hand curved around the back of his neck, not knowing whether he was keeping the larger man at bay or pulling him closer. And Ushijima just... let him. In fact, he continues to offer no resistance and when Oikawa pulls back, flushed and panting, he seems somewhat pleased.

"Finally got it out of your system?"

Oikawa's eyes widen as the words register in his addled brain and when he sees that familiar wild expression, all reason goes out the window.

"You fucking bastard," is all Oikawa can get out before he pulls Ushijima forward with force into a fierce kiss filled with teeth and tongues and holy shit what is he _doing_? But this time, Ushijima doesn't just stand there. Seemingly spurred on by Oikawa's savage treatment, he surges forward of his own accord until he's crushing Oikawa against the door, one hand tangling in his hair in a severe grip to anchor him in the kiss and the other at his hip, fingers digging into the exposed skin where his t-shirt has ridden up.

As Oikawa groans into his mouth, hips twitching against his, Ushijima breaks the kiss and tugs on the bottom of the setter's t-shirt. "Take this off."

Oikawa blinks dumbly for a few seconds, not fully comprehending any of Ushijima's words but whatever was going on, he was definitely not going to make it easy for the arrogant prick. "Make me."

Ushijima's eyes narrow but not in annoyance, rather in acceptance. Without wasting any time, he grabs the hem of Oikawa's t-shirt and unceremoniously drags it up and over his head, tossing it somewhere to the side before attacking the slighter man's now exposed chest. Oikawa can't help the rather embarrassingly high-pitched moan that makes its way out of his mouth when Ushijima nips at a collarbone, lips travelling up the pale column of Oikawa's elegant neck, huge hands roaming until one finds the growing bulge in his shorts.

Oikawa almost chokes on the oxygen he was forgetting to inhale, startling himself out of the apparent daze he was in. There was _no way_ this was actually happening. This _had_ to be another fucked up dream. 

Hazy eyes coming back into focus, Oikawa concentrates on Ushijima's face and instantly hates what he sees there all over again. The bastard somehow looks satisfied; victorious even, like he's won all over again. And to hell with that.

Feeling a spike of adrenaline hit and abandoning all logic, Oikawa takes it a step further; hand quickly darting into Ushijima's shorts and bypassing his boxers, his slender fingers curling around a similarly growing erection. "Seems like you're enjoying yourself a bit too much, _Ushi—waka—chan_." 

The usually impassive facade cracks and Ushijima's eyes darken dangerously, a poorly concealed threat in the bright lights of the changing room. "Oikawa," and it's a low rumble; like the calm before a storm.

"Oh, how scary~" Oikawa drawls, hand beginning to slowly pump Ushijima's length, feeling it harden even more under his touch.

The last thing Oikawa registers is the glint in Ushijima's eye before his hand is yanked out of the spiker's boxers and pinned above his head. Before Oikawa has time to react, Ushijima spits into his free hand and slides it into his boxers, fisting his now fully hard cock. The surprised whine that leaves Oikawa is swallowed by Ushijima's lips, hips canting forward into Ushijima's calloused hand and it feels so _good_ that Oikawa thinks he might pass out from the sensation alone. Ushijima's mouth is hot and insistent and the way his hand is working Oikawa's dick is heaven _and_ hell because it's too much and not enough and how this is even happening in the first place Oikawa will never know.

These thoughts are interrupted when Oikawa hears a deep groan and realises that maybe Ushijima is as into this as he is and maybe this is what victory really feels like. When they finally break for air, he doesn't let the moment slip away, breathless though he is.

"Is this what you wanted, Ushiwaka-chan?"

Lidded eyes meet his.

"Don't call me that," Ushijima murmurs. "Besides, isn't this what _you_ wanted? The real reason you keep coming to watch us practice— to watch _me_?"

And _fuck_ he sounds so possessive when he says it that Oikawa _throbs_ , mind and body reeling and is this really what all those lingering looks and wet dreams had been culminating to?

"What, no childish comeback?" Ushijima teases, seemingly amused by Oikawa's reaction and who knew this guy could be capable of something like that. 

In response, Oikawa lets the hand that had been gripping Ushijima's shoulder for leverage glide slowly down over toned abs and back into Ushijima's boxers, once more taking hold of his now completely erect cock and sweeping his thumb over the wet head before giving it a firm squeeze. Oikawa watches as Ushijima exhales a quiet sound of satisfaction, eyelids fluttering and he feels powerful. Powerful until Ushijima's hand on his dick starts to move again and then he's back to being mush; thighs quivering and goosebumps erupting all over his skin, panting breathy moans against Ushijima's lips. He knows he's leaking a fountain but luckily for him, Ushijima's no better and this is helping the slick slide of their palms and it feels _so fucking good—_

Suddenly, Ushijima is pressing in closer still and then all too quickly Oikawa feels untouched. A hand gently pries his own away from Ushijima's length before the spiker encircles both of them with one hand and _oh._

Precum aiding the way, Ushijima begins to pump both of their cocks in a steady rhythm and his hands are so _big_ and so _rough_ and it's _too good._

The temperature skyrockets as pleasured sounds fill the room. Feeling heat curling in his stomach, threatening to melt him from the inside out, Oikawa regains enough composure to tentatively wrap his hand around Ushijima's and move with him. Ushijima's grip on Oikawa's hand that's pinned to the door tightens, fingers like a vice around the setter's wrist and those will be bruises he's going to have a fun time explaining but he moans out his approval anyway.

Their strokes soon start to speed up as they chase their orgasms to completion. Somehow in sync, they both lean forward and their lips meet in a frenzied kiss, Ushijima's skillful hand bringing them right to the edge and dragging Oikawa helplessly along with him. Oikawa comes with a shuddering gasp followed by Ushijima with a feral grunt, white painting both of their hands in a sticky display.

Foreheads resting against each other, they both try to gain composure. Ushijima's breathing, and of course it does, seems to even out first. He releases Oikawa's wrist and leaning to the side, swipes a packet of wipes off a nearby shelf before offering it to the setter without a word. Oikawa is only momentarily stunned before he grabs some, averting his eyes as he cleans himself up while Ushijima takes a handful and does the same. He can't tell if Ushijima is looking at him and if he's honest, he doesn't want to know. His wrist _aches._

Oikawa feels the heat of Ushjima's body recede and hearing the sound of retreating footsteps, chances a glance at the man who had just jerked both of them off in a highschool changing room. Ushijima had returned to his locker, rummaging through his gym bag for a fresh t-shirt and Oikawa remembers his own discarded one that had ended up in the corner. They dress in silence, eyes cast anywhere but each other.

It's... awkward.

Straightening out his clothes, Oikawa chews on his bottom lip, wondering whether he should say something but ultimately decides against it and heads for the door. 

"You should've come to Shiratorizawa."

Oikawa's hand stills on the handle.

For some reason, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears and it's just like before a big game; same anticipation, same adrenaline, same excitement, same passion. Oikawa opens the door and steps out into the cool evening air before turning his head to face Ushijima, slightly flushed face set in determination.

"I won't let you get in my way. This year it'll be Aoba Jōsai going to nationals."

Ushijima instantly looks more alive than ever and Oikawa feels a spark of renewed vigour.

"I look forward to it."

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaaaaand much like the type of relationship this couple has, I have a love-hate relationship with this story. I liked the idea but the reality is it doesn't flow that nicely and didn't turn out how I wanted it to. Let's just say the rust is real but hey ho, here ya go!
> 
> Enemies to lovers, hate-fucking into oblivion is best trope. I mean, that's what I wanted to write but I ended up with this angsty, sexual frustrationship type deal. Still, this pairing needs more love because it's hot lol  
> I swear I'm incapable of keeping fics short so it's a stupidly long one considering all I wanted to write was them having crazy, wild sex ~~which turned out to be not so crazy wild in the end because I was trying to keep events in line with the canon characters and why the hell did I prioritise that over dicking~~. Silly me tried to give them a backstory when I should've just written a smut scene...
> 
> As an aside, the dream Oikawa has is supposed to harken back to that moment in the show during Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa where Ushijima is holding down Hinata and Tsukishima (in case y'all were confused).


End file.
